This poem is about the
depersonalized wage economy that most of us are a part of. It will use you, chew you up, and spit
you out without a second thought.

Machine1984

Theyve turned you into
a machine
And the machine has gone
crazy.
As they open the throttle you
flail about
Planned obsolescence
epitomized.
And as pieces
fly about
And you become
broken and worn down
They groom the next
candidate
To take your
place
Then they cast you
off
Without a backward
glance .

Goodbye.

This poem was
inspired by a bright "jumbo-tron"-type of billboard that was put up in Hamilton
in late 1998 on Main Street, as it leads into the city. You can't miss it as you
drive or walk towards downtown. It assaults your eyes and won't let them go.

Monstrosity on Main Street1999

Monstrosity on Main Street
rapes my eyes
batters my mind

Money leeches try to poison my will
under pretence of "information"

Turn night into glaring day
overpower the moon
compete with the sun

Beacon for mindless consumer sheep

Generally speaking, in this society,
our elders are treated very poorly. Oh sure, they have all sorts of discounts and
health care, but they are generally not treated with respect. So in many cases,
understandably, they sink into depression and a meaningless existence. This poem is
about how people are reduced to basically nothing as they become old, and become a
"burden" to society once their "useful" lives are over (ie, once they
retire). It is in a way, a lament for the lost youth, freedom and vitality that gets
sucked out of us.

Old Man1981

Old man,
What have they left you now?

Have they left you your mind,
That once cut them to shreds 
The piercing intellect so ready
To spew out those sharp answers.

Old man,
Where is it now?
Is it still in there, hidden away
Beneath the mindless media syrup?

Have they left you your spirit
That once challenged the mountains --
The brashness, the dashing flair,
That drank them all under the table.

Old man,
Where is it now?
Is it still alive in there
Under that heavy cloud?

Have they left you your body
That ran so far and so swift
That massive chest and those arms so strong
That carried her over the threshold that very first night.

Old man,
Where is it now?
Its all been melted away
From that toothpick strapped in the wheelchair.

Have they left you your love
That won over all their hearts:
A small baby, a handsome dog, a fair lady 
They basked in your radiance, not long ago.

Old man,
Where is it now?
As you scowl so mean.
Is it plastic and dead like the rest of your world?

Have they left you your splendid face
That once wooed a hundred princesses.
Those noble features so rugged and fine
The envy of men wherever you went.

Old man,
Where is it now?
That stringy hair, that hooked nose and toothless grin;
Its been all sucked away, by people so perfect.

Have they left you your pride 
You were once so justly proud.
They all looked up to you, from baby to man:
A man of honour, beauty, and honesty.

Old man,
Where is it now?
The babytalk nurses, feeding you pablum
Have squeezed it from you, every last morsel.

Have they left you your hope
That saw an endless future 
That spoke of great grandchildren,
And a world of goodness and light.

Old man,
Where is it now?
Yes, its buried so fearfully deep
In the gray concrete beneath your feet.

Have they left you your soul
That lifted you in times of need
Your very being, your lifebloods flow
Breathed into your once newborn body.

Old man,
Where is it now?
Has it already left you, escaping the pain,
Or has it turned to cement, like the rest of the world?

Old man
What have they left you now?

Have they left you .
Anything .at all?

In this poem I
attempt to envision what it might be
like for a child lying in their bed at night, waiting for the abuser to come...

Silent Scream1998

Is that him coming?
The creak of a stair
quiet click of the door
soft shuffle on the carpet

Is that him coming?
She stiffens
the scream torn from her throat by fear
soundless terror ripping through her soul

Is that him coming?
She buries herself within herself
fleeing to escape
running, running, running